Page 45 of Straight Shooter

She rested her hands on his chest and rocked her hips.

“Christ,” he breathed.

His shaft connected with her apex on each thrust, and pleasure rippled through her. He trailed his hands over her hips to her waist then covered her breasts. His thumbs swept over her nipples, sending shockwaves to the exploding nerve endings between her legs.

Her breath dragged through her lips as she worked her body up and down. Rhett groaned, circled his arm around the small of her back, and flipped her over. His body nestled between her legs like a long-lost puzzle piece, and he pumped into her.

Numbness crept over her upper body as all the blood rushed to the glorious, building orgasm at her clitoris. His face nuzzled her throat, and then he lifted his head to suck on her bottom lip. She cried out as he plunged inside her depths, and she matched his thrusts, jerking her hips. Her clitoris tingled and a wave of ecstasy flooded her senses.

“Harder,” she commanded. He gripped her hips in his free hand, lifting her so he could angle deeper. Another explosion burst through her flesh. Her insides pulsed around his girth as he drew out every last ripple of her orgasm.

His body spasmed against hers. “Peyton, God,” he mumbled next to her earlobe.

She locked her arms around his neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and lovemaking. Her racing heart fell into sync with the rhythm of his.

Suddenly, a stab of sadness washed over her. Their parting ways was inevitable and would hurt like a bitch. She’d have to enjoy every minute—and inch—of him until then.

Chapter

Sixteen

“Got it, thanks.” Rhett exited out of the program the tech guy at the bureau had sent him and unplugged Vicky’s phone from his laptop. Peyton would be ecstatic. He took one last gulp of coffee and glanced at the clock: 8:48 a.m. He’d been awake for two hours already.

The tension that had been riding in his muscles ever since he’d been assigned to Moretti’s crew had been fucked away, lost in Peyton’s heavenly scent, luscious body, and full mouth. It’d been a long time since he’d been kissed that way—fully. Damn, what did that even mean? The saucy strawberry-blonde stirred his blood like no other woman ever had. Her body made him want to go on a seven-day exploration adventure. Her goldish-brown eyes disintegrated every ounce of resistance in his body, and the sex with her had filled a need he didn’t know existed. He was ruined.

He moved away from the table and made his way to the bedroom. He paused at the door and then swung it open an inch. Peyton lay curled on her side, her knee drawn up over a pile of blankets. She’d left him with only a corner of the mattress to sleep on. Her ass arched onto his side of the bed. The early morning sun lit the room in a blaze of yellow, but she didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the glare. He always woke before the sun and never understood how people could sleep so peacefully after the day had started. He stepped into the room and moved toward the bed. A patch of pale pink coated the crook of her neck as a result of his scruff. Given the angle of her chin, he couldn’t see the damage Sid had done, but her throat had been an angry purple the previous night.

The memory of her hanging over the railing, of almost not reaching her in time, yanked a cord deep in his heart.

He’d protect her from now on.

And right now, he didn’t want to analyze what the hell that meant. He rested his palm on her bare thigh and rocked her leg. “Priss. Time to wake up.”

Her face puckered into a cute pout, and she grunted something that sounded like “go away.”

“C’mon. We’ve got work to do.” He tickled her thigh, and her lips melted into a grin.

She cracked open an eyelid. “For your information, the reason I’m so tired is because of you.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Me? How?”

She tapped her pinky to her lip. “Let’s see . . . it must have been the second, or maybe the third time you woke me up during the night.”

Images of entering her sexy little body from behind seared his brain and brought his semi-satisfied cock to life. “Ah, well you can’t blame me for that. Besides, I don’t remember any complaints.”

She chuckled and stopped his hand from weaving under the covers and between her thighs.

He studied her. “Are you sore? Did I hurt you?”

She waved the question away. “Of course not. But I am a little sore.”

Guilt swam inside him. He’d been too intoxicated by her to resist. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knee. “I’m sorry.”

She turned onto her back and the blanket fell to her waist, exposing her beautiful, pink-tipped breasts. “Don’t be. I enjoyed every minute.”

“Mmm.” He pressed kisses down the inside of her leg. A flush tinted her cheeks and her eyes blazed.

She pressed her palm against his forehead. “Rhett, I need a couple of hours, please.” Her laugh was hoarse.